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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23332819">keep this love in a photograph</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dingletragedy/pseuds/dingletragedy'>dingletragedy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EastEnders (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Talking, also fluff of course, episode coda, maybe a bit ooc, maybe a bit ott</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 05:27:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,081</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23332819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dingletragedy/pseuds/dingletragedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Callum can’t be sure how long they sit there for in the end, how long he cranes his neck up and wills himself to keep his eyes wide open, unblinking and shiny. Hours, or maybe more. Still, he wants to sit here forever, wants to stay frozen in this moment with Ben beside him, and just the endless spread of the moon and the stars glowing out of then open window. But then Ben shifts beside him, squeezes Callum's hand, gentle, and Callum pulls his eyes away to watch.</p><p>Because he’s just as beautiful as what’s around them.</p><p>or, an episode coda to the heart-wrenching scene on 24/03/20.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>keep this love in a photograph</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is quite literally two fics in one and i'm not sure it actually makes any sense but here it is anyway!!! </p><p>wanrings for mentions of death/grief. </p><p>i hope you're all well, staying safe and i hope this lil fic provides you with some entertainment and smiles during this horrible time. massive love to you all. let's look after each other xx</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They stare wordlessly at each other. The sun setting out the window creates a low swell of flushing pinks and dulling oranges in the Mitchell's kitchen, bathing them in a false warmth. The sound of children playing in the park and riding the streets can be heard through the gap in the door, bringing in a whisk of unwelcomed wind with it. But all of that feels so far away right now, every familiar thing Callum’s come to know about this place, <em> Ben’s home</em>, feels like a vague memory as this strange sense of understanding washes over him, that flush of anger and frustration fading as Ben clings to him, churning into something he’s felt before but could never put a finger on. </p><p>It's desperation borne out of undying love.<br/><br/>Callum doesn’t know what to say now, only this time, the silence is what he knows Ben needs. There’s nothing he can say to change this, to stop Ben’s pain, and it wouldn’t be right of him to try and change it, <em> he doesn’t want to change him. </em> But can still hear Ben’s pleas in his ear, <em> I’m sorry, I’m sorry</em>, over and over again, <em> I’m sorry for everything</em>. It breaks his already fractured heart. </p><p>Ben wipes at his eye with his free hand and lets out a tremulous breath. Callum watches him, the pinch of his mouth and brows, the way his jaw keeps clenching up, trying to hold back the tears with each shuddery breath. “Ben—” Callum voices eventually, trying to calm him, chest aching at the way Ben’s eyes spill over again. </p><p>“Stay?” He asks.<em>“Please.” </em></p><p>The word has a slow, careful way about it, that same timidness evident in Ben’s features, the one Callum hasn’t seen in weeks. He’s looking at Callum the same way he’d looked at him after that first disaster of a date, the same look he’s given him when he’d found Callum after all those days looked in a warehouse. He looks at him like words might break them, as if they’re glass about to splinter, one wrong footfall away from shattering into a million tiny pieces. </p><p><em> He hates it. </em><br/><br/>Callum breathes, and he knows, meeting Ben’s eyes, that the words about to come could break them, easy as anything. “Are you sure that's what you want? Because only a few hours ago it wasn't me—” </p><p>“God, Callum, I’m so sorry,” Ben cuts him off, and Callum feels useless, like nothing he can say could ever be enough. He doesn’t know how to fix this, isn’t sure he has the energy left to try. He just holds Ben closer, as if he can glue them together, cracks and all. Ben has a vice grip around him. “I hate myself for making you doubt this, <em> us</em>. I don’t want to do this without you. <em> I can’t. </em>”</p><p>Each breath Callum takes feels weighted with glue, sticky and gluggy, and his under eyes are bulging, swollen from the effort he makes in keeping the tears hidden, temples throbbing from the amount he’d cried and been completely somewhere else.</p><p>It’s all he can do to pull Ben in again, as close as he can, and close his eyes.</p><p>“Please don’t go,” Ben whispers between them, desperation clawing at his throat. “It’d be so lost without you. And I know I don’t—don’t show it all the time, that I’ve been a right idiot this week, but I need you Callum. I <em> need </em> you and I <em> want </em> you. I promise I’ll change. <em> I’m sorry</em>.”</p><p>Callum lets out a quiet cry, lips bitten harshly into his mouth as he wills himself to stay quiet. His eyes feel swollen and wrecked already, aching from how much crying he’s done the past few hours. That familiar ache has settled in his forehead too, a heavyweight that runs down the bridge of his nose and along the tops of his cheeks, red and irritated. </p><p>“No, Ben, don't apologies,” he replies eventually, and his voice hiccups before he can stop it. “There’s no way I could ever understand what you’re going through, and maybe I shouldn’t even try to, but I didn’t mean what I said, because I <em> am </em>here for you. All I want is for you to feel safe, and happy, and loved. I don’t want you to change.”</p><p>"But I can’t stand here and pretend that your words don’t hurt, Ben,” Callum continues, honestly. “I ain’t as strong as you, I can’t just forget. But I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about another person, and I want us to get through this, <em> through everything, </em>together.” </p><p>He can’t be sure Ben understands every word, but he’s nodding his head vigorously, and that has to be enough for Callum tonight.</p><p>“It’s like you said,” Ben replies, keeping their eyes locked. “About trying to make myself feel better by making everyone else feel worse, it’s what I’ve been doing and it ain’t right. Nor is it fair, especially not on you. I don’t want to make you sad, Callum, and I don’t want you to save me either. But to have you here to help me, and I will let you I swear, we’ll it means the world to me.”<br/><br/>And with that admission, they stare at each other intently, chests moving in tandem, and suddenly the kitchen feels like this tiny, quiet pocket tucked away from the rest of the world, and with Ben’s hand is in his, thumb brushing the back of Callum’s own, everything between them suddenly runs hot; and then comes the wave, curling gentle like a barrel over them, warm-wet, crawling up Callum’s spine, filling him with a warmth only Ben’s company brings.</p><p><em>"You </em> mean the world to me, Callum.”</p><p>Callum lets the last of his anger go, let’s the wave come down, feels it pull everything from under him, leaving with a love in his heart and only Ben’s smile in mind.<br/><br/>“I know. And I love you.”</p><p>“What?” Ben questions, brows pinched, but Callum spots the tug of a slight smile twitching his lips. </p><p>“I said; <em> I. Love. You. </em>” Callum repeats slowly. </p><p>“Oh, I heard you,” Ben smirks. “Just wanted to hear it again.”</p><p>“Idiot,” Callum shakes his head fondly. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” </p><p>And then there’s a beat, Ben letting the words hang between them, before he surges forward.<br/><br/>Callum lets out a shuddered breath, eyes widening and then closing when their lips touch, a fumble of pressure. It’s over within a second. Callum is left chasing the feeling, his heart leaping up into his throat, beating wildly. And for some reason he can’t explain, it feels like that first time all over again. Only the roles are reversed this time as Ben reels away with wide eyes, this look of alarm passing over his features as he starts to put space between them.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry,” he rasps, shaky. He rubs a distressed hand over his cheek, eyes cutting to the floor. “I shouldn't have– I should’ve waited– I don’t know if you even want—”<br/><br/>Dazed, Callum reaches out and grabs Ben’s arm, firm, keeping him still. They watch each other, breathless, Ben’s gaze full of a fear Callum’s come to recognise, but he refuses to look away, the whirlwind in his head spinning and spinning and spinning, but outside of himself it’s still so quiet, like a word could shatter everything.<br/><br/>“Ben,” he whispers, and it’s so, so quiet. But it’s enough. “Of course I <em> want</em>. I’ll always want this. <em> You. Us </em> .”<br/><br/>Their mouths meet again, gentle at first, despite the rush of breath that escapes them, the curl of fingers in jackets, the bump of their noses as they get close. The warmth of it hits Callum first, the overwhelming heat of being this close to Ben again, after feeling so far for days, and then comes the shudders, the spine-prickling, the goosebumps along his arms and neck when his bottom lip gets caught soft between Ben’s own for a moment, when a palm finds his jaw, gentle and soft and polar opposite to rough of his throat, worn down from all the shouting. Ben’s hands reach Callum’s body, his hip, his chest, and there, finally, palm flat over his heart.</p><p>“It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” Callum whispers against Ben’s bottom lip, hopes he does enough for Ben to hear it right down in his heart. </p><p>
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</p><p>The night creeps in eventually, and with it comes the stars and moon, the sky truly alive now, a calm settling over Albert Square, and Callum’s heart too. They tread light feet up to Ben’s room, hands clasped tight.</p><p>They sit side by side on Ben’s floor, backs resting against the bed, the radio ebbing music so gentle under their breathing. </p><p>Ben lets his hand scramble under the bed, crawl around until he seemingly reaches what he’s looking for. <em> A box</em>. A small box with pictures spilling out.</p><p>Ben slides the box out in front of them, dusts the top off, old marker barely legible on the sides. <b>Summer ‘16. Autumn ‘19. </b>The blinds are slanted, the shining night sky peeking through, igniting all the disturbed dust particles into little stars, dancing through the air, and Callum watches them spin and settle.</p><p>The sound of ripping tape brings Callum out of his reverie and he watches on as Ben sifts through the box, pulling out a number of grainy pictures, a childhood half-lived, familiar faces and some not, toothy-grins and flushed cheeks, precious moments captured forever.</p><p>He watches the soft, sad smile that pulls at his features.  </p><p>“Look at this,” Ben says after a beat, and Callum peers down at the photograph that’s held out to him, a helpless smile curling up his mouth at the image.<br/><br/>It’s Ben, young, matted-haired, drowning in a coat and unlaced boots, sat in the sand with a collection of grains in each palm. He’s letting them go, and the picture almost seems blurred by it, an overcast day. It’s strange to see his face without the scar there, two perfectly rosy cheeks, round with youth. Callum laughs softly under his breath, watching Ben flick through the other pictures, pictures with Louise, little snippets of Albert Square, The Queen Vic, all these tiny memories captured.<br/><br/>The box is filled with other nondescript things, an old blanket, a faded hospital band, a Mamma Mia Live ticket, an old Christmas decorations and cards too. One by one, Ben flicks through the pictures, often he will pause, thumb tracing faces Callum doesn’t know, some he does. They come across one of Ben and Paul, the two of them grinning with their arms around each other's shoulders, the market stalls faded in the background. There’s another just after, of Ben with his Mum, he’s small, toothy grin showing wide, a time before his Mum left, before everything changed, Callum assumes. </p><p>With careful hands, they continue to sift through the pictures. And Callum’s in awe of it, almost, all these little moments and memories captured eternally, the happy, the sad and everything in between, almost a preservation. <em> A time capsule. </em>Callum almost wishes he had his own nondescript box, but he reckons the bad memories may firmly outweigh the good. </p><p>There’s a few whole family photos in the mix, most seem as if they were taken when the children were young, Ben with his chest puffed out, small hands around Louise’s with care and protection. It’s only then that Ben notices he's the spitting image of his Mother, a smile so bright and eyes impossible to miss. </p><p>There are so many stories in this box, so many little slips of paper, some half-full with rushed poetry, others detailed, stapled and stuck together. If Ben would let him, Callum would spend all day shifting through Ben’s history, his stories, <em> his everything.  </em></p><p>But before long, the floor around them becomes a mess of paper and envelopes, the heady smell of it tickling Callum’s nose, that kept-in-the-draw smell he aches for, surrounding and submerging them completely.</p><p>Then they come across a particular picture, one faded and torn, a little worn around the edges, a sign of love and devotion, Callum decides. </p><p>It’s set on a beach, the sun shining as bright as Ben and Denny’s round faces. Denny as a tiny boy with a button nose and too-large shorts, Ben with his arm slung around his shoulder, his smile beaming, glistening in the sunlight, eyes dancing, dimples indefinite. </p><p>“He was a good kid,” Callum whispers carefully over Ben’s shoulder, sure to catch Ben’s eye, stomach curling the longer he looks, and then he feels Ben’s fingers at his wrist, his head on Callum’s shoulder as they look down at it. “It’s okay to miss him, you know?”</p><p>Ben’s face is wet when their eyes meet, and Callum can feel the tickle of his own tears on his chin, leaking down and dropping onto the front of his suit.</p><p>“I do, I miss him <em> so </em>much,” Ben exhales, all in a broken, trembling rush, and whatever was left of Callum’s shattered heart splits into even smaller pieces, crackles and snaps into atom-sized fragments. Heat prickles in his eyes, and he shakes his head furiously, nose brushing and bumping. </p><p>“I remember us taking this one,” Ben continues, photo shaking between his fingers, his voice is wet, thin. “We’d just had a race up the beach. He'd won, of course. He couldn’t stop smiling, made up this story about how he’d run the beach until he dug down to the sea with his footprints, plans of running around the whole world to see it all, never stopping.”</p><p>“Tell me more?” Callum asks, barely a whisper, because it feels so delicate, fragile enough to break with only a breath, and maybe he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t push, his own chest aching as he lets the words go, but he can feelBen letting go now, with the way he keeps squeezing Callum’s palm, his breath shallowing for the first time all night. </p><p>“He used to try and run after me in the morning when I went out to school, or work, or just about anywhere. He just followed me around everywhere, especially when he was little, y’know, like a lost puppy, and I’d always complain about what an annoying young brother he was.” </p><p>“He was anything <em>but </em> that, he had this strong, sure heart and head to him that none of us could ever compare to, not me, nor Dad, or even Sharon. I’ll never forget the way he used to sneak out of the house and wait for me on the park. Dad would go mad, and I’d take the lame every time, but it was always worth it to spend that quote half an hour with him, eating salty chips and drinking sugary pop.”</p><p>Callum laughs under his breath, eyes wet, and Ben does the same, thumb wiping at his cheek.</p><p>“He was a terror, an absolute terror, sometimes,” Ben continues, a wet laugh. “But I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that. He just had this thing about wanting to know everything, be everywhere, always running to explore every possibility.”</p><p>Callum smiles softly, vision blurring a little. “Reminds me of you, you know?”</p><p>“<em>What? </em> I don’t run?” Ben replies with a weak laugh, it eases the strain on Callum’s heart nonetheless.<br/><br/>“Oh, I know,” Callum shakes his head, gentle, thumb at Ben’s knee. “But he was brave. Fearless. Fierce. Stood for what he believed, and wouldn’t let anyone tell him otherwise, not even you. That’s special.”<br/><br/>Ben’s face tucks further into Callum’s shoulder, and gradually, Callum’s lets his cheek rest atop Ben’s head, the two of them resting together, eyes wet, Ben silent as he breathes slow and measured.</p><p>“And I think he’d be proud of you, you know?” Callum continues, the words escaping before he can stop them, and he doesn’t want to stop them this time, finds heat at his neck as he speaks. “The way you’re still going, after everything, you’re still waking up in the morning and you’re still caring for the people that matter. You could’ve just have closed down, given it all up, but you’re still here. Battling through, and not letting anybody tell you who to be, or how to act. And you should know that I love you for that, no matter what. You make me feel like I have something to belong to, and to become. I can’t let you think nothing of yourself when I think so much of you. When I know Dennis thought more than the world of you.”<br/><br/>He finds Ben’s hand, rests his fingers in the gaps between Ben’s own.</p><p>“Callum, don’t—”<br/><br/>“You’re a good person,” he whispers, ernest. “You have a good heart, you just need to let yourself believe it.”<br/><br/>Ben pulls away a little, frowns as he faces Callum fully, and when Callum meets his eye carefully, he finds Ben’s brows pinched as he stares right back, something akin to a revelation passing over his features, something Callum feels in his chest when Ben blinks, lashes clumped.</p><p>“Will you come with me, tomorrow?” Ben asks. “To the funeral?” </p><p>They watch each other for a moment, and it feels heavy, and Callum can’t look away. He tucks his thumb beside Ben’s. </p><p>“Yeah. Of course,” he replies. Pride filling his every crack. <br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Callum can’t be sure how long they sit there for in the end, how long he cranes his neck up and wills himself to keep his eyes wide open, unblinking and shiny. Hours, or maybe more. Still, he wants to sit here forever, wants to stay frozen in this moment with Ben beside him, and just the endless spread of the moon and the stars glowing out of then open window. But then Ben shifts beside him, squeezes Callum's hand, gentle, and Callum pulls his eyes away to watch.</p><p>Because he’s just as beautiful as what’s around them.</p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>Later, when it’s closer to morning than it is to night, it’s all goosebumps and hot breaths, hands clinging on to any skin they find and desperate moans, pleas and apologies alike. It’s wet mouths and teasing fingertips, tongues and teeth and lips, eyes wide open and honest, misty and full. It’s the rustle of their, skin on skin, broken whimpers and hushed words.</p><p>They cling to each other, press as close as they can. </p><p>Never to let go again. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> We’ll keep this love in a photograph. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm @dingletragedy on tumblr/twitter. please come chat with me n keep me entertained! X</p></blockquote></div></div>
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